


keep me out of sight

by clairvoie



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, Poetry, metaphors and nothing, poem, the world is an abstract mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 16:36:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12172692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clairvoie/pseuds/clairvoie
Summary: writing style inspiration (the obvious ones that come to mind) : Richard Siken and Walt Whitman.





	keep me out of sight

the trees beyond the house, set alight 

fire raging and cracking mud-filled skull and wooden trunks 

caged birds screaming, ringing through the wood

their singing reaching the walls of this home

and my hands

balancing the glass on the table

the water too hot to touch

poured over fingers, skin red and thick and screaming... 

no, no, keep it in the cup

keep your feet out of the tub

just wait a little longer for me in the river

 

red and orange dancing like salem girls in the backyard

here I am

balancing the fruit on my head

here I am

cutting wood for you, on fire

okay, okay, I’ll walk into the river, I’m coming. 

look! our heads under water! our eyes peering through weeds overgrown!

the darkness moving, the water humming

my feet snagged on roots. 

I’ll catch up. don’t wait any longer.

 

you reach for me in sleep each night 

urgency like a ripped stitch 

in the light of day, your yearning like a noose just out of grasp,

and frayed rope swinging from the branch above. 

_ cut it down, please _ , you ask,  _ keep reaching _ , I’ll say, it’s there, just use your arms, use imagination, just use something already, fuck.

a heavy foot across the ballroom floor,

my shoes clicking in the kitchen, 

oh, and you in the light of the fireplace

you under the sheets and you in the dining room, and everywhere. 

these images like brands

but look: names forgotten, 

yours and mine, the names of our children

buried by road dust. 

this is it. 

it is all we get. 

**Author's Note:**

> writing style inspiration (the obvious ones that come to mind) : Richard Siken and Walt Whitman.


End file.
